WBDP - Brianna Delivers Pt. 06

"Wow. Two potential jobs. I need to contact a contractor about getting started on the guest house now. We might need to have a place to live sooner than I expected."

"We also need to contact a real estate broker as soon as we get home so we can get our house on the market. You'll need to make sure the house is clean and shipshape for showing," Marcia said.

"I can't believe how fast this is coming together," I said. "It's going to be very busy for the next few weeks. Oh, Brianna, that reminds me. I looked over the accounts you gave me to supervise. I developed a few ideas and back tested them to January. If we'd been doing them since then, you're accounts would be up 6% instead of down by over 10% in the same time period. I definitely think I can help you."

"Sam, that's wonderful. I knew you could help. Even more reason to celebrate."

"Oh, by the way, we were wondering if we could make a couple stops on the way home."

"Where do you want to stop?" Brianna asked.

"We were thinking of Babies R Us to buy some cribs and I need to get more clothes."

"Babies R Us will be closed by the time we get done with dinner. So will any good clothing stores, although I suppose we could stop at Target or Walmart if it's just a few casual items you're interested in."

"Well, I definitely want some swim trunks, and I don't care if they're inexpensive. I don't plan on using them for more than a few days," I said. "Maybe a package of underwear, another pair of shorts, couple t-shirts. Target would do. On another note: can you recommend someone to do the guest house remodel?"

Monique pulled out her phone and texted me the contact information for a contractor.

Brianna pointed to his name on my phone. "He's the one who did the original remodel" Brianna said. "He'll have the plans for what it used to look like. Might be able to put it back the same way. Or you could get three good quotes and get their ideas of how the place should look. As long as it still looks like part of the estate and not some Neo-modern, glass cube shit; you can do what you want with it. Make it yours."

"Thank you. I'll see what it used to look like and if we'd want to make any changes to it."

It was a relatively short drive to the restaurant as Los Angeles drives went. We got there five minutes before our reservation time. We notified the hostess we were all there. She promised they'd have a table cleared in the next ten minutes. Another big party was just finishing up. I asked her if they had wi-fi and she assured me they did and gave me the password. I smiled at her, my loveliest smile. Tonight was going to be so much fun. As promised, we were seated in ten minutes and the waiter asked for drink orders.

Brianna asked if they had Cristal and the waiter assured us they did, so she ordered two bottles. Mom, Monique and Adele ordered water. I said it would be a good idea if they brought water for everyone, but the champagne would be sufficient for alcohol. The way we were seated, Mom was between Monique and Brianna. I was next to Brianna with Marcia next to me and Chantelle on the other side of her. Adele sat between Chantelle and Monique on the other side.

Mom said to Monique, "I'm taking medication which doesn't mix well with alcohol; how come you're not drinking?"

Monique patted Mom's hand and said, "In addition to driving, I'm hoping I'm pregnant and I don't want any booze until I'm sure I'm not."

She turned to Adele to ask her and realized it might not be politic to raise the question again, given what she knew. "I see," was all she said.

The sommelier returned with the champagne and opened it for me, but I pointed to Brianna and said she would be making the decision about the vintage tonight. Brianna nodded to me in acknowledgement.

"Pardon me, sir."

"Madame, please try this." He poured another glass and gave it to Brianna. She sipped the Cristal and declared it was excellent. He poured glasses for Marcia, Chantelle and me, and more in Brianna's glass, and set up ice buckets on each side of the table next to the four drinkers. I handed Mom my glass and asked her to take a small sip because it was hard to find a better champagne anywhere.

"Oh, my. This is good. What is it again?"

"It's called Cristal and it's excellent and very expensive."

"Maybe you could poor me just a little," and she held up her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.

"If you're going to cheat on a restriction, cheat with the best," I said. I poured her a tiny amount. I'm sure she'd manage to make it last all the way through dinner.

My watch alarm went off and I turned it off. Eight o'clock, the witching hour as far as Marcia was concerned. I handed her the bag.

"Go into the ladies room," I said quietly. "You'll know what to do with these items when you get there." She looked at me with a small smile on her face. "I'll expect your bra and panties to be in this bag when you return it to me. Oh, and unbutton your blouse down to about here," and I pointed to a spot halfway between her lovely breasts.

"Of course." She excused herself and went to the bathroom. She came back about ten minutes later and handed me the bag. She wasn't walking as smoothly on her return as she had when she left, but that's to be expected when you have a large butt plug in your ass and a slave badge dangling between your legs. Her blouse was appropriately opened. Not too daring, but I'm sure any male in the place would attempt to peek down her blouse if given the opportunity, and perhaps they'd spy the hint of a nipple. Her slender neck was now graced with her gold Omega slide necklace with the small handcuffs on the slide. I glanced inside the bag. Her lacy underwear was in it, so I tucked it in my jacket pocket. I took my phone out and found the app, turning on Marcia's Vibe, now securely inserted in her cunt. I offered Marcia my napkin to put on her seat. She gratefully accepted it and put it below her bottom. Very adroitly, I might add. She was becoming a pro.

"Welcome back. You may cum as necessary without asking permission."

"Thank you." She kissed me, passionately.

"What just happened?" Mom asked Monique.

"Our slave girl has returned," Monique said, "though you're not to address her as such. You may call her Marcia or Miss. Her period of freedom just expired."

Mother took note of the golden collar, figured out the significance of the handcuffs on the slide and her open blouse in which she saw no hint of a bra. "So that's what a slave girl looks like in public."

"You'll notice Adele, Chantelle and I all have lovely little collar necklaces or chokers and pretty matching bracelets on both wrists. Slaves need to be identified with their owners markings." She pointed to the small 'Brianna' engraved on both the bracelets. "If you know what to look for, you might see other slaves out with their owners."

Mom noticed Marcia seemed somewhat uncomfortable in her chair.

"Why is Marcia squirming around so much?"

"I suspect her Master made sure she has a plug in her bottom and he's probably making her orgasm."

Mother looked at me and I smiled and nodded. Of course I was making my slave climax.

"How many of you are out there?" Mom asked Monique.

"More than you might think," Monique said. "'Fifty Shades of Grey' has popularized the trend somewhat, but most of those will be mere players. There will be serious Masters and Mistresses about."

Mom started looking around at the other tables, seeing if she could spot any others. Thinking she spotted one, she discretely pointed to another table and asked Monique if they were a master and slave.

"They are," Monique confirmed, "and if you look about three tables to the right of them and two tables back, there's another one. It's trickier. The slave is the male. The female is his Mistress."

Mom identified the couple Monique had described and realized she was right. The male was clearly deferential to the Mistress.

"Who knew? I was blind and now I see."

"Los Angeles might have a larger percentage of the population who play these games, but if you look close, you'll be able to spot them anywhere," Monique informed her. "I would guess New York, Washington, DC, and Dallas would have large percentages as well. Anywhere there's lots of money and power. They would have many dominant personalities and submissives will be drawn to them."

"And are people looking at us right now and able to see there are four slaves at the table?" Mother asked.

"Yes. We're fairly easy to identify. There's only one male and six females at this table. It's a fairly good clue to most we're different," Monique said. "They might not be sure of your status however. It could throw them off a little."

"Even at my age, you learn something new every day."

We ordered and everybody got something different. Mom asked Marcia and I if she could have a bite of ours as she always wanted to try something new. When the food arrived, I was forcing Marcia to cum again. I loved to make her orgasm in public. She was clever at hiding her climaxes from the general public, but to those who recognized the signs, you could tell. Because she was cumming, she didn't really notice the waiter looking down her blouse. She was leaning forward a little, shuddering, and it opened a small gap between her blouse and breasts. I noticed him looking. I also noticed the erection he started to sport after catching a look at her perfect globes and hard, throbbing nipples.

When he was serving the other side, I motioned to him and told Marcia she had a fan. She looked up and glanced at his crotch.

"Poor boy. I wonder how long it will be before he's able to relieve himself," she said.

"Don't know and don't care. If he didn't want to suffer, he shouldn't be peeking down your blouse during your orgasm."

"He didn't?"

"He certainly did. It's his own fault. Of course, I don't blame him. If I couldn't see your boobs all the time, I'd be peeking too. I should look now. I'll bet your nipples are hard points just waiting to be sucked and bitten."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Your fault," I whispered. "If you weren't such a delicious slave who looked so spectacular when she cums, I wouldn't have to make you cum all the time. Clearly, it's your fault."

"Mmmm. And if you didn't make me cum all the time, we wouldn't have waiters running around the restaurant with rigid peckers now, would we?"

"Probably not, but who can say. There could be some other fabulous slut on the other side of the restaurant now who's also driving her waiter to ruin. We may not be able to blame all the rigid peckers on you."

Marcia and Brianna, also privy to our conversation, both laughed. I cut off a small piece of my salmon and gave it to Mom, then a small piece of Marcia's steak strips with Mexican seasonings and passed it along as well. I ate some of my food.

"This is real good, Brianna. I won't deny it. Quite tasty. But I think I've been spoiled by Chantelle's cooking. Somehow, I believe it would be slightly better if she'd made it." I turned to Chantelle, leaned over Marcia, and gave her a kiss. When I drew back, I said, "You tell your Maman what a wonderful chef she trained. There's almost no point in going out. I can't get any better food anywhere."

"Merci, Monsieur. I will tell her. She will appreciate the complement."

By the time we finished the entree's, both bottles of Cristal were gone, so Brianna ordered another to go with dessert. The sommelier poured more into the glasses of the four who were drinking and ensured all the others had their water refilled. Brianna raised her glass to propose a toast.

"To the lovely and accomplished Marcia, in honor of her new job. To her husband, Sam, for showing us how to make more money, and to our world traveler, Jane, who we still haven't quite managed to figure out. Cheers." We clinked glasses. Marcia set her glass down momentarily as she trembled through another climax, too overcome at the moment to raise her glass to her lips. She gripped the edge of the table until her spasms passed, then smiled and took a sip of champagne.

"That looked very intense," Brianna said.

"Oh, it was," Marcia confirmed, a small shudder of an aftershock passing through her frame. "Sam has been giving them to me all evening long. I'm afraid to look at the napkin I placed under my bottom. I'm sure it's soaking wet."

"You're welcome, darling," I said cheekily. "Congratulations."

After we ate, I paid for Marcia, Mom and I. Brianna got the rest and I'm sure the Cristal had to be more than the retail price of $200 per bottle. When we got in the car, I had Marcia strip. Her sex was soaked in her cum, her lips slick with it. I scooped some in my hand and had her lick it clean. I sat on the seat and had Marcia sit between my legs. While I let the Vibe run, I fondled her tits for awhile and as she got closer to her orgasm, I shoved two fingers into her sheath and finger fucked her until she orgasmed again. Mom was watching intently.

"What is that thing you've got in your slaves vagina?" She asked.

"It's called a We/Vibe, Mom." I pulled it out of Marcia's cunt. It was drenched, so I made Marcia lick it clean. I pointed to the broad tip. "This part goes over her clitoris, and you see the narrow neck here in the middle. This part is thin so I can fuck her while it's inside of her. This other end is inside stimulating her near her g-spot. It's very effective, waterproof and I can control it with the remote it comes with, although it has to be close range, or if she's in a wifi zone, I can control it from anywhere I have wifi too with an app on my phone." After it was clean, I slipped it in a pocket. "I love to give my slave orgasms even if I'm not with her."

"How many times did you climax in the restaurant, slave?" Mom asked.

"Six," Marcia admitted.

"You're very good at hiding it. I only detected two."

"Master makes me cum in public often. I've had to get good at hiding it."

Monique's voice came over the intercom. "We're at Target, Master."

"Thank you," I responded. "Kneel slave." Marcia knelt for me. "I'll be right back."

I ran inside and picked up the clothes I needed for the next few days. Returning with my purchases, I got back into the limo.

"Master," Marcia said, "Jane ordered me to lick Chantelle's cunt. I refused per your order."

"Mother, we're celebrating my slave's offer of employment tonight. Rather than having her lick someone's cunt, I think someone should lick hers. Would you like to volunteer for the job?"

Mom shook her head no, rather briskly.

"Be careful what you order my slave to do. If I think it's inappropriate, you may find yourself doing the same thing. I told her last night she is not to comply with any of your orders unless I'm present. You seem a little eager to order my slave about and I'm concerned what you might order her to do. She's not your slave. She's mine." I turned to Chantelle. "Chantelle, would you like to make my slave cum?"

"I would, Master."

I had Marcia sit between my legs again and spread hers over mine. "Eat away," I offered. I told Marcia she would need my permission to cum. She squirmed knowing I would delay her pleasure.

Chantelle knelt between our legs and applied her tongue to Marcia's liquid cunt. Her blood suffused lips were engorged and the inner lips flowered from both her arousal and her wide spread legs. A trickle of her fluid was leaking from the bottom of her pussy between the cheeks of her ass until Chantelle's deft tongue scooped it up.

As Chantelle licked and suckled on my slave's ripe flesh, I caressed and squeezed her breasts, tweaking and pinching the hard points of her nipples. Beside me, Brianna and Adele were kissing and Adele's hand was probing under Brianna's dress. Mom's arms were wrapped around herself, hugging herself, though mostly, I think, to control her own hands.

"Tell me slave," I whispered in her ear, "do you like having my Mother watching you get your cunt licked? Will you orgasm more knowing she's watching you cum?"

"Yes, Master. I'm embarrassed and excited at the same time, knowing she's watching me."

"Are you wet? Is your cunt dripping? Do you want to cum?"

"Yes, Master. Please let me cum."

"Not yet, little slave. You must hold it for me. I want you to resist with every fiber of your being the sensations brought on by Chantelle's talented tongue. You must think of something else, anything else, so you don't cum yet."

Marcia tried to close her legs. I slapped her thigh.

"No! I want my Mother to see what a slutty little slave you are, see your fluids leaking from your cunt. She needs to know that of all her daughters-in-law - no - of all the women she knows, you are the biggest slut. Nobody else she knows would beg to cum as you will beg. Your horny little pussy can't even wait until you get out of the car and have some privacy. Your cunt is so needy, so inflamed, you must beg me to cum."

She managed to hold out a little longer, but each moment that passed, her breathing altered, becoming faster and shorter. Her breasts and chest started to flush, her stomach started twitching, the muscles on her arms and legs started to flex and strain as she fought her own desire.

"Please, Master. Your slave begs of you. Please let me cum. I can't wait much longer. I'm dying, Master. I cannot hold on. Please, Master, let me cum."

"No, slave, hold on."

She started shaking uncontrollably, looking as if she were having a seizure and suddenly she screamed, "Fuck! God! I'm cumming! I'm sorry, Master. I couldn't hold out any longer. Please forgive me." She was practically sobbing.

Marcia's cunt hole was contracting, and dilating, and contracting again, looking for all the world like a little baby mouth hoping for food. Chantelle was licking like crazy to keep up with the flood of fluid Marcia was discharging from her pussy. Her buttocks were bouncing up and down, thrusting her hips at Chantelle's face while grasping her hair and rubbing her face wildly against her throbbing core. I continued mauling her proud breasts, and Chantelle shoved two fingers up her channel, while fiercely licking and sucking Marcia's clit. Between the two of us, her orgasm wouldn't end. She was panting and mewling, cooing and moaning, as wave after wave of electric charged pleasure centered on her cunt, spread like wildfire to every nerve in her body. It must have gone on for five minutes, shivers and tremors causing her body to jump. I wouldn't let her close her legs, holding her open to expose her gaping, saturated cunt to everyone in the back of the limo.

Her twitching started to die down and her breathing slowed. Chantelle gradually stopped licking and moved back, laying bare my slave's shame and desire. I kissed the back of her neck, her ear, rubbing my hands along her thighs. "Was it a good orgasm, little slave?"

She turned her head toward mine and said, "The very best, Master," and kissed me.

She tried to get up from my lap and to close her legs. I smacked her cunt, held her down and ordered her to keep her legs open over mine, spread wide.

"Everyone needs to see what the cunt of a slutty, slave girl looks like. A lewd, wanton slave who couldn't wait until her Master gave her permission to orgasm. Look at Chantelle's face, slave. She couldn't keep up with the amount of cum you released. Her face is a mess, all due to you."

It was true. From her eyes to her neck and ear to ear, Chantelle was doused in my slave's orgasmic fluids. It didn't bother her. She seemed to be quite pleased to have been the source of such a cosmic orgasm. Her smile was almost as wide as the smear of cum across her face.

"Chantelle, without blocking the view of this slutty pussy, put your face up here so my slave can lick her cum off your face."

"Yes, Master."

Chantelle got on the seat beside me and put her head in front of Marcia's so Marcia could lick off her pussy juice. When her face was clean except for Marcia's saliva, they kissed. My cock was killing me. Never had I so regretted the necessity of wearing clothes as I did right now. I wanted to shove my cock in Marcia's ass in the worst way, but not in front of my Mother.